The Four
by celesti
Summary: Ivy reflects on the seasons
1. Winter

Ivy hated winter.

The roses withered, the leaves broke off and tumbled, the trees became stark, and the grass was covered in a never-ending cold sludge. Winter captured the world in it's wake and left a terrible burden behind. A burden in which all the living creatures had to recover from. Everything was dead, and sullied by snow. How ironic of Mother Nature give it the color of live-giving and pure white when it only killed.

Like a predator, it sneaked up on her with it's lowering temperatures. Although she never doubted Mother Nature's choice, she still felt the harsh and bitter feelings of resent. It was cold, detached like a hermit. It made her shiver, and it made her feel sick. Snow drenched the city in an overwhelming blanket of white, leaving the citizens to trudge through it's body like an Eskimo in the North. The days were cloudy and wet, and the nights were blistering cold.

Then there were the holidays. Those vermin on the street shoving each other for their last minute shopping and the howls of people caroling into the night when all Ivy wanted was a good nights rest. The rowdy teens that'd throw snowballs, and she'd never forget Christmas. The worldwide botanical genocide that'd gripped everyone each December. Millions of trees slaughtered and their corpses decorated like a prop to be shown. She hated them all.

New Years, where all the meat-bags would drink their cold hearts away into intoxication, only to wake up the next morning without a clue what had happened. The resolutions that'd never go anywhere. Not too mention, the fireworks hurt her ears. And the next few months were nothing but cold, cold, and more cold.

If all those reasons weren't good enough, Ivy had another. Harley _liked _winter. Her doll-like blue eyes would light up when a snowflake fell from the sky, and she'd opened her mouth wide to taste one. When the snow blanketed the streets, she'd run outside and make angels on the road, despite the roaring honks of furious drivers. She'd go holiday shopping during December, putting on her best fur coat and rummaging through the clothing selections at little boutiques. She'd beg for a Christmas tree, and she'd beg to go caroling. But it was always a no from Ivy. Harley also _liked_ the fireworks, commenting that they made her feel tingly. Ivy didn't even want to ask what that meant.

But she knew that where winter would go, the green was never present.


	2. Spring

Ivy adored Spring.

Delicate pink blossoms peaked on trees, blue birds sang into the whirling chill breeze, cool dew droplets sprinkled the wet morning grasses, the golden sun weaved between the puffy clouds, creatures of the forest coming out, and the green finally awakening. Spring tip-toed in and cleansed what the winter had destroyed months before. Spring gave all the everlasting glow of life. The garden of love jumps alive with joy, and Ivy feels it deep in her bones. In winter, she plots and plans, but in Spring? She moves.

Like a guardian angel, it comes up with blooming leaves, watching over it's Earth. Mother Nature had made a wise decision to create such a wonderful atmosphere. It was warm, wild, and free. It made her laugh, and it made her feel joy. Flower's opened their petals, decorating the usually horrid city in a field of beauty. The mornings were cool, and the days were full of twisting rain showers, giving the hopeful plants of Gotham a chance to shine. Spring time was the world awakening, March bringing a quiet yawn of what was to come.

The trees whisper to her, and the flowers giggle. Her children are here at last. Spring showed what God can do to help a terrible city. Spring gave her the life that she wished to live. Her greenhouse would open, and Ivy spent her days harvesting the pristine fruits and vegetables to donate to the orphanage homes. The garden shop would come to life, and she'd sell leftovers to the people who ventured in. It was a time to begin growing the mutant Venus Flytrap that she'd created with combined plant genes. It was a time to repair and rebuild.

As she walked through the orchard, the leaves swayed, saying her name. The wind talked to the trees, and the bees played with the flowers. As she walked on the harbor, she heard the waves crash onto the rocks, and they called to the sand below. As she petted the petals of a rose, it rolled into her touch, whispering "Spring is here."

The youth would soar and despair would fall. Ivy would lay in her garden, welcoming all the green to show her the light. The flowers crowded to her, cooing and sighing as they tickled her skin with soft petals. The trees bent for her, letting any rest be taken as she watched the city lights in the distance. And she rolled and tumbled in her little Garden of Eden, because that's where she was most happy.

Leave Winter, just go, Ivy would call. Because Spring was here to rise.


End file.
